Broken Memories
by Allanna Stone
Summary: Emma Waltson grew up an ordinary girl. But when she sees a familiar face on a milk carton, she finds herself tossed into a blender of crazy.
1. Chapter 1

**Broken Memories**

**I don't own the Avengers.**

**SUMMARY:**

**Emma Waltson grew up an ordinary girl. But when she sees a familiar face on a milk carton, she finds herself tossed into a blender of crazy.**

My life is normal as it can be for the daughter of the police of chief and a deceased army soldier. Or I'd like to think it is. I grew up in a small town with a really smart and understanding mom. My dad was killed in action overseas and my mom, who I love dearly, is a work addict. My friends are few, but loyal. I mostly keep to myself and my published books, working on another complex plot line that makes sense to me only until I have it typed out. I describe my personality as being timid, shy, quiet and meek. I have a little sister, Grace, and we have the perfect relationship; we never fight, she always helps my with my untamable curls and I help her with her homework. I'm part of an amazing band called Memories' Misfits. With this much borningness in my seventeen year old life one would probably wonder as of to how my life turned from calm and peaceful into a huge hunk of crazy. How my name changed from Emma Waltson to Roseanna Barton.

I feel as though I'm getting a head of myself, sorry about that.

Let me start at the beginning…


	2. Chapter 2

**Broken Memories**

**I don't own the Avengers.**

**SUMMARY:**

**Emma Waltson grew up an ordinary girl. But when she sees a familiar face on a milk carton, she finds herself tossed into a blender of crazy.**

It was just another ordinary day as I rehearsed one of the songs for my music class. I hit all of the high notes perfectly, trying to stay in time to the music as I played the small keyboard that lived in my bedroom.

My room, located at 19567 Raspberry Street, was painted a deep teal color, with blackout curtains over the windows, dark wood floors, and mahogany furniture. The daybed was covered with stuffed animals that I'd acquired over the years, all of my bookshelves were packed with books, and my closet was half full with clothes, the other half housing more books. My desk was cluttered with notebooks and flyaway pieces of paper; my vanity was covered with makeup and hair accessories; and sound asleep on my royal blue shag rug was my Napoleon blue mastiff (still a puppy) dog, Violet.

"Emma!"

I turned and gave my little sister a mock scowl. Grace was the cutest little six year old in the world, even if she did pick up most of her bad habits from me.

"Yes, little Gracie dear?" I asked her, standing from the bendch and swooping in on her and scooping her up into my arms, ticking her exposed stomach with one hand as I held her upside down.

"We're out of milk," she pouted. "Can we run to the store and get some more?"

I looked at my watch and saw that it was barely even past three in the afternoon. In reply to her question, I grabbed my purse and house keys and sent her off to grab the reusable grocery bags and the push cart that dad and I made before he was killed n action three years ago in Iraq.

"Alright, so milk, eggs, bread…" I listed off as we walked towards the well stocked store in town.

"Bacon!" piped in Grace, smiling wickedly as we entered the store. I rolled my eyes.

"Of course- we can't forget bacon for our little piggy!" I teased her, making her stick her tongue out at me. I laughed as I sent her off towards the ice cream isle to choose something sweet for desert.

The last item I got before we went to the checkout was milk. I grabbed two gallons, knowing that the two of us went through milk like tissues.

When I met Grace at the counter, she had a small bouquet of daisies.

"For mommy," she explained as I set everything up on the counter to be scanned. "She's been working hard lately and I want to make her dinner tonight."

"What do you want to make?" I asked her as the guy rang up the total. I handed him my card as I bent down to be at eye level with my sister.

"Spaghetti and meatballs? With garlic knots and a big salad?" she asked hopefully as I realized that the little evil had somehow or other manipulated me into getting all the necessary integrants for the meal.

"Oh, all right," I muttered, ruffling her hair affectionately.

Despite the fact that we got along better than any of the other siblings in town, we looked like polar opposites. Grace was a blonde haired, blue eyes angel while I had dark red curls and dark brown eyes. But other than our different looks, we were pretty much the same in personality.

"Violet!" squealed Grace when we were inside the house once more. The giant dog had woken up from her nap and attacked my sister in a warm greeting. I clucked my tounge at the two of them rolling on the floor.

"Grace, go get the rest of the stuff then put the cart into the garage," I bossed her. I took great pride in being the older sibling. She was the only person who I was able to let my guarded walls down for.

"Emma, after we're done with dinner, can we watch a movie?" she asked hopefully as I handed her an apron to wear.

"It'll depend on whether or not there's enough time for that, Gracie," I answered as I diced the tomatoes for the sauce.

"OK! I really want to watch The Princess and the Frog," she agreed, pushing over the footstool so that she could stir the herbs into the pan.

"I thought it would be Brave," I teased her, tugging at my own Merida-like curls.

Grace pouted as she stirred the sauce.

"I was just teasing you, sweet sister of mine," I tossed in, going to the fridge to grab a milk jug for the garlic knots.

You know how milk jugs have pictures of missing kids on them? Wel,, I froze when I saw the little girl's face. I squinted my eyes to look at the face better, praying that it wasn't what I thought it was.

But it was.

The little girl was me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Broken Memories**

**I don't own the Avengers.**

**SUMMARY:**

**Emma Waltson grew up an ordinary girl. But when she sees a familiar face on a milk carton, she finds herself tossed into a blender of crazy.**

Later that night, I drained the milk jug into a pitcher, cut out the missing girl's information and took it up into my room to do some research.

I curled up on my bed with Violet at the foot, snoozing lighting as she lied on my feet. I had my trusty laptop up and running and I typed into the Google search engine:

**ROSEANNA BARTON**

Judging by the 10,000+ hits I got, she was a popular little girl. I clicked on every link, fixating every word to my edidic memory. Most of the links led to what she was wearing and where to find matching outfits, gossip sites that told of what her parents were doing, and finally, on a full color photo of the little girl and her parents.

The man was built strongly with tanned skin, dark hair and steel grey eyes. The woman was slender with red curls and a soft smile. The little girl looked too much like me- heart shaped face, dark brown eyes and bright smile.

I suddenly thought of something.

I looked at the birthmark on my foot before typing in a few more words into the search engine and waiting for the results.

**ROSEANNA BARTON BIRTHMARK**

The result was staggering,

There were several pictures of the girl barefooted, running around, showing off her birthmark proudly.

I sat back in shock.

How could this be?

Had I actually been lied to my entire life?

I Xed out of the page I was on when I heard a quiet knock at my door. I looked up and saw Grace in her pajamas and carrying her ratty bunny by one ear.

"I had a nightmare," she whimpered. I held open an arm for her to crawl into bed with me.

"What was the nightmare about?" I murmured softly, kissing her forehead.

"You were taken and I never saw you again," she sniffled.

I sighed as I placed the laptop on the bedside table and drew my sister into my arms.

"I am not going to leave you," I whispered, wondering how she would do once I was in college. "Would you like to help me with a new book I'm working on?" I quickly bought up a new word document. "It's about this girl who finds out she was kidnapped. She saw her face on a milk carton at school and is just getting over the initial shock. What do you think she should do?" I held my breath.

"Are her parents still alive?" she asked me, leaning into my side.

I nodded my head, my fingers positioned over the keys, ready to be put into action.

"If I were her, I'd go and see my parents and see if they remember me," she answered as I typed down everything. "And so some snooping too, while I'm at it."

"Okay, so she lives in Oakley, Maine and her parents live in New York; how would you suggest she gets to New York?" I asked her.

"Train; you could pack in some adventures and mysterious murders along the way," she answered. I cheered silently when she didn't notice that I had randomly selected one of the neighboring towns as a starting point. "Isnt one of your books going to be turned into a movie?"

I slapped myself for forgetting. "Bloody Song. It's about a murderer who kills during live performances. It's going to be filming in New York, and my publisher wants me to make a few appearances to drum up business for the upcoming movie! Thanks Grace, you're a genius!"

I turned to smile at her and found that she was sound asleep, her thumb tucked into her mouth. I shook my head as I turned to switch my laptop off.

I froze.

The camera light was on, signaling that someone had been watching me.

I checked the program and saw that I could trace anything. I growled in frustration as I glared at my laptop before snapping it shut. Violet looked up at me and whined softly.

"It's okay, girl- I'm just being paranoid," I murmured softly, kissing Grace one more time before switching off the bedside lamp and falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Broken Memories**

**I don't own the Avengers.**

**SUMMARY:**

**Emma Waltson grew up an ordinary girl. But when she sees a familiar face on a milk carton, she finds herself tossed into a blender of crazy.**

Before I knew it, March had blended into April, and May and finally June, when I was scheduled to go to New York for a few press days for the upcoming movie version of Bloody Song.

I smiled at Grace, who was curled up next to me, reading a book that I had just written and published for her age group.

"I loved this book, Emma!" she beamed up at me. "I love the way how Ruby is determined to find her father, how she sneaks onto the pirate ship, how she helps the cabin boy find out who is plotting against the pirate captain…"

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, little Gracie," I smiled, ruffling her hair fondly as I turned to looking out the window. I went back to thinking about daddy and the last time he came home.

_It was the first game of the season and I was so excited and proud to be wearing the varsity cheer uniform. I stood in the back of the line along and cheered my heart out, doing dances, chants and stunts._

_It wasn't until halftime did the football players come over to chat with their parents and girlfriends, leaving me with mom and little Grace, who was just three years old. I was disappointed that daddy was still in Iraq._

_I felt someone behind me and I turned to see a football player looming up behind me._

_He took off his helmet and I screamed and jumped into his arms, hugging the living bejeebees out of my daddy._

"_**DADDY!**__" I shrieked loudly, ignoring the cameras around me. "How long had you been here?"_

"_Long enough to watch you trip as you got out of the car," he teased me, kissing my cheek._

_I blushed as I remembered that embarrassing moment. I had accidently flashed the cheer captain and ended up having three big football players coming running up to help me back onto my feet._

"_That wasn't my proudest moment, daddy," I informed him, turning a bright cherry red._

I shook my head and wiped a tear from my eye. Little did I know that would be the last time I would ever see my daddy alive. The next month, we got a letter saying that he was missing in action, assumed dead. That made mom go into work more, working hard to support two daughters. Grace became the little mother of the house and I withdrew into my world of personally published books. I used as much of the money I got from the books to help support us, but still, there were some bills that needed to be paid, some kind of car repair that needed to be done, doctors bills that needed to be kept up with…

It never ended.

Nothing ever ended, not really. Like with books for example. If an author dies or can't write a sequal, someone else will write a spin off or two.

"Excuse me, but the train will be pulling into Grand Central Station in ten minutes," chirped the attant on hand, poking her head into our compartment and smiling brightly at us.

"How's the crew doing?" Grace asked me once we were on solid land again.

"They're all doing good. Erin's enjoying Spain, Joy is having fun learning to surf in California, Molly's loving Israel and Irisa is loving Russia," I rattled off the names of my fellow band mates as we began to walk towards our hotel. I was certain to keep an arm around Grace- who knows what kind of nutcases there were in New York?

"Emma Waltson!"

I turned as I heard my name and smiled as I saw three teenage girls along with a middle aged woman, each clutching copy of one of my books to their chest.

"My dear heavens child, you look much younger in person!" exclaimed the woman, pinching my cheeks.

"I think it's the lighting in the photograph, ma'am," I bashfully told her, rubbing my cheek.

"Aunt Judy!" whined the three girls, embarrassed at her affection towards me.

"My nieces and I were wondering if you could sign our book?" Aunt Judy asked me, holding out her copy of Killer Train.

"Of course!" Grace fished out her Clinderella pen from when I treated her and mom to a trip to Disneyland last year and I quickly scrawled personalized messages into each of the books and signed my name with my flourish.

"Thank you!" they all beamed before heading off, chattering about meeting me in New York.

I returned the pen to Grace, knowing how important the pen was to her as we both continued the short trek to our hotel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Broken Memories**

**I don't own the Avengers.**

**SUMMARY:**

**Emma Waltson grew up an ordinary girl. But when she sees a familiar face on a milk carton, she finds herself tossed into a blender of crazy.**

Once we were settled in our hotel rooms, Grace and I decided to go to the filming sets and talk to the actors, stunt doubles and the director.

"Stephan!" I shouted once I was on the giant Met Opera look-a-like stage that was to be where a quarter of the scenes were to take place.

"Miss Emma, as always, a pleasure to see you again!" beamed the man in his British accent, bending to hug me and Grace. "You as well, Miss Grace!"

"Same to you!" I chirped happily before turning to tell Grace that she could go off, as long as she wasn't underfoot.

I blushed as Nick Jonas, who played the dashing young pop star Constantine Stirling, came over to chat with me about how he should portray he character. I wouldn't ever admit it, bit I had a huge crush on the rock star.

"So do you know those men?" he asked me, jerking a thumb over at two men in black suits with sunglasses on and earwigs in their ears.

"Probably just security detail to make sure that no fans come in and disrupt shooting," I answered shrugging my shoulders.

At that moment, Stephan hollered for silence on the set before the camera started to roll. I was so engrossed in watched the actors play out the scene in my book- the same scene that I've envisioned so many times before in my head, that I failed to notice that anyone had slipped something into my hand until the director bellowed cut.

I looked down at my hand, surprised by what I found. An envelope with the word Stark Industry on the front in a nice monogram.

I opened it and my jaw dropped at what I read.

**MEET ME AT AVENGER TOWER TMORROW AT NOON IF YOU WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTH.**

I scoffed before noticing that there was more. I dug inside the envelope and came up with a chilling picture.

It was of me as I did research on Roseanna Barton. I remembered wearing that Batman shirt to bed because I couldn't locate my pajamas, and I was lazy and didn't want to wait for the wash to run its cycle.

I lost track of how long I was standing there for until Grace hugged me.

"Can we go get something to eat? I'm hungry!" she informed me loudly, getting a lugh out of the people around us.

"Yeah, sure," I muttered, creeped out and feeling a bit paranoid. Now I was wishing that I had thought to bring Violet with us. But if we had bought the giant puppy with us, who knows what kind of trouble she would get into?

I found myself looking everywhere as we walked towards a McDonalds for a late lunch. As we sat inside eating out meals, I once more got the feeling that someone was watching us.

I swiveled my head from side to side, trying to see who was watching me. I suddenly looked up and saw security cameras were pointed at every which exit.

I felt like I was trapped inside a cage.

I quickly finished my meal and took Grace by her hand and practically dragged her outside, where I felt safer.

Once we were back in our hotel room, I fell onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

Who was stalking me?


	6. Chapter 6

**Broken Memories**

**I don't own the Avengers.**

**SUMMARY:**

**Emma Waltson grew up an ordinary girl. But when she sees a familiar face on a milk carton, she finds herself tossed into a blender of crazy.**

The next day, I was outside of Avenger tower, waiting for my mysterious stalker to arrive and tell me what all he knew about my past.

It was getting close to noon as I tapped my foot n beat to a song that was rattling around inside my head. I had left Grace with Stephan, claiming that I had a personal errand that I had to run.

It soon became evident that I would have to duck inside because I really needed to pee.

"Excuse me, but is there a lady's room where I can powder my nose?" I asked the lady at the front desk with a charming smile.

"Of course dear- here's a badge," she answered, handing me a visitor's badge before pointing me towards the restroom.

I exited the bathroom five minutes later, my bowels very happy with me. Just as I was about to go back outside to wait for my mysterious stalker, someone stopped me.

"You must be new- I hadn't seen you around here before," smiled Clint Barton AKA Hawkeye. I recognized him from several pictures I found online a few nights ago when I was doing 'research'. "What's your name?"

I said the most stupidest thing ever.

"Roseanna Barton."

The second the name escaped my mouth I clapped my hands over my mouth in horror and I ran, only stopping long enough to hand over my badge to the lady at the front desk.

I ran through the streets of New York, not even pausing to glance over my shoulder as I barreled my way past people. The entire time, all I could think of was the look on his face.

I ran until I reached the hotel. I burst into the lobby, wheezing as I bent over, my hands on my knees.

I was suddenly knocked over by a loud squeal and someone rushing me.

"Emma!" squealed Molly happily, bouncing up and down as she hugged the living bejeebees out of me.

"Molly!?" I half asked, half shouted. I finally pushed myself away from her and saw to my shock, the entire band was standing around in the lobby. I turned back to my plus sized friend and saw that she had lost at least fifteen pounds. "Israel did you good!" I whistled as she crushed me to her chest once more.

"Heya, girly!" called out Erin, striding up to me and joining in on the group hug as well, her light brown curls tickling my nose. Joy grinned and tucked her beach blonde hair out of her amber eyes and Irisa whipped her dark blonde hair out of her hazel green eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I asked them.

"Don't you remember? We're going to record the theme song for Bloody Stage," Molly gently reminded me.

I slapped myself. Of course, how could I have forgotten that? We had been asked to compose and perform a song for the opening scene and credits. I had came up with the lyrics while Molly did the music. That was the way we operated.

"Right- sorry, but I was kinda busy with running an errand," I lied swiftly before slinging my arms around Molly's and Joy's necks and leading them up to Grace's and my room. "Come on girls, let's go practice!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Broken Memories**

**I don't own the Avengers.**

**SUMMARY:**

**Emma Waltson grew up an ordinary girl. But when she sees a familiar face on a milk carton, she finds herself tossed into a blender of crazy.**

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS:**

**The song in this chappie is called Hand of Sorrow, performed by Within Temptation. Don't own it; never had, never will.**

I smiled as I joked around with my crew. We could be found at MSR Recording Studio, where we were all ready and fired up to run through our song, 'Hand of Sorrow', for the first time in a friendly environment.

I nodded at Molly, who was at the keyword and she began to play the haunting lullaby that started out the song. Within a few beats, the rest of us girls joined in, with Erin on drums, Joy on bass, Irisa on electric guitar and I on the guitar.

I waited until the beats were measured out and I opened my mouth.

~xoXox~

"_The child without a name grew up to be the hand  
To __watch__ you, to shield you or kill on demand  
The choice he'd made he could not comprehend  
His __blood__ a grim secret they had to command  
_

Clint listened in shock as the girl who blurted out his daughter's name made magic with her voice and guitar. He could identify with the song- he had a name as a child but had lost it when he became an assassin and adopted alias after alias. He had been torn between his job and staying with Natasha and rasing a family, but in the end, he felt as though he had made the right choice, but now, look at where that landed him- thirteen years ago his daughter was kidnapped, and now she had been presented to him.

_"He's torn between his honor and the true love of his life  
He prayed for both but was denied  
_

This was true- when he had told his boss he was quitting, he was not at all pleased. Clint ended up killing him and walking off.

_"So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed  
Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind?  
So many years have pass, who are the noble and the wise?  
Will all our sins be justified?  
_

Clint listened to the sweet angelic voice singing. She didn't look like an angel, not with her untamed red curls, skintight black leather pants and jacket, and her heavily make uped face. If anything, she looked like a biker gangster girl or something. It didn't help any that the other four girls who were recording with her were dressed just like her.

_"The curse of his powers tormented his life  
Obeying the crown was a sinister price  
His soul was tortured by love and by __pain__  
He surely would flee but the oath made him stay  
_

Clint still payed the price for turning his back to this very day- the scars that marked his body sneered at him every time he dressed himself, every time he worked out, every time he made love to Natasha.

_"He's torn between his honor and the true love of his life  
He prayed for both but was denied  
_

Roseanna had been their only child, seeing as how the serum that made Natasha able to have children was destroyed shortly after she was conceived. They never gave up hope that they would find her.

_"So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed  
Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind?  
So many years have pass, who are the noble and the wise?  
Will all our sins be justified?  
_

No, it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth losing Roseanna, or watching Natasha fall into a downward spiral of depression.

_"Please forgive me for the sorrow, for leaving you in fear  
For the dreams we had to silence, that's all they'll ever be  
Still I'll be the hand that serves you  
Though you'll not see that it is me  
_

Clint imagined Roseanna to be singing these words to him, her eyes sad and pleading. He whispered, "I forgive you, Roseanna," before she whipped her untamed curls back and did a fancy guitar riff. The music seemed to pulse through his veins as the entire band went into a frenzy at their insterments.

_"So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed  
Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind?  
So many years have pass, who are the noble and the wise?  
Will all our sins be justified?"_


	8. Chapter 8

**Broken Memories**

**I don't own the Avengers.**

**SUMMARY:**

**Emma Waltson grew up an ordinary girl. But when she sees a familiar face on a milk carton, she finds herself tossed into a blender of crazy.**

I was aware that he was watching us, but I really couldn't do much of anything except ignore him and pray that he didn't recognize me.

No such luck.

After I motioned that the song was over, the man- Clint Barton- pushed past the door and hugged me.

"Roseanna," he whispered, kissing my forehead.

"My name is Emma Waltson," I informed him in a low voice as I glared at my crew, telling them to go get a soda or something.

"We'll see you back at the hotel- we'll go pick up Grace for you, alright?" smiled Molly before leading the way out.

"Who's Grace, Roseanna?" he asked me gently as I packed my guitar into its hard case and hoisted it onto my shoulders.

"My little sister," I growled, elbowing my way past him and outside, where I flagged down a taxi and got inside, giving the driver the address to the hotel.

~xoXox~

The following week, I was pleased to hear not a peep out of Mr. Barton or any of the other Avengers. Hopefully, they were taking my hint and leaving me the hell alone.

But all that was quickly dashed when I was at the supermarket, getting some ice cream for Grace, my crew and I to have a movie marathon. I looked at one of the tabloids and found myself grabbing US weekly and tossing it with the large stash of ice cream I had grabbed.

When I got back to the hotel, I handed out the ice cream to their proper owners before curling myself up on the couch as everyone voted on 'Batman Begins' for their first movie.

I ignored the movie and instead read the magazine. The headline read:

**CLINT BARTON AND EMMA WALTSON- WHAT'S THEIR CONNECTION?**

I snorted as I turned to the article.

"_Marksman Clint Barton was caught red handed at a New York Barnes and Nobles, buying all of Emma Waltson' published books, which included The Blood Stained Notebook, The Violinist's Secrets series, and the newly released Very Grimm Faerie Tales series. He was overheard saying "… I must read more- God knows when I last sat down and read a good book." But when he said this, his eyes got teary. Another source reports that he bought all of Memories' Misfits, a symphonic metal band that is quickly becoming popular with youths, released albums and DVDs._

_ "But why would he choose Emma Waltson's grisly and heavily detailed murder tales of all the books in the world?_

_ "One source says that it's because she bears an uncanny resemblance to his wife, Natasha Romanoff._

_ "Another source reports that it's because Miss Waltson's reported favorite book, Bloody Stage, is being turned into a movie._

_ "Maybe the archer wants to keep on top of what's hot. Maybe he had a sinister motive. Who knows?"_

I was jerked from the magazine by a gunshot. I looked around wildly but it was only the movie.

"Bump up the volume more, wont you?" I gasped, earning me some guilty looks.

"Sorry," apologized Erin, pausing the movie.

"You've been acting irritated as of lately," added Molly. "What is going on?"

I took a deep breath before exhaling.

"Nothing," I lied.


	9. Chapter 9

**Broken Memories**

**I don't own the Avengers.**

**SUMMARY:**

**Emma Waltson grew up an ordinary girl. But when she sees a familiar face on a milk carton, she finds herself tossed into a blender of crazy.**

_It was a beautiful day as I went to the police department. I had to drop off mom's gun because she was in such a rush that morning that she had forgotten it and had called me in a panic._

_ "Is my gun there?" she asked me when I had picked up the phone. I looked on the kitchen counter and there it was._

_ "I found it- I can drop it off for you, okay?" I told her, hanging up after she agreed to the plan._

_ Little did I know that I would kill someone that day._

_ Mom said that I had saved lives, but I still felt that stab of guilt n the pit of my stomach. I had taken a life true, but I had left a wife husbandless, his children fatherless, his parents sonless._

_ It was then that I discovered writing as being an escape for me._

_ I published my first book nine months after I had killed Ken Miller while he was holding a little girl at gunpoint and ordering the band to fork over their money. I had just taken a shot and it whizzed past his ear, he was so shocked that he had dropped the girl and she went running off towards her mother, wailing._

_ "Drop the gun or else I will shoot!" I barked, my voice going an octave lower and growling with danger._

_ "Make me, you little brat!" he snarled, aiming the gun at a man behind him._

_ I did not hesitate._

_ I pulled the trigger…_

And I woke up, panting and sweating.

I looked around me, seeing the familiar setting of the peaceful hotel room. The water fountain was still going at full blast, the sound of droplets hiting the rocks and pebbles soothing me little.

"It was just a dream," I muttered, standing from my bed and walking over to the balcony, opening the doors so that I could step out and cool down from my steaming sweat. "Just a dream- he's dead, you killed him. You can't undo the past."

"Of course you can't."

I yelped loudly and karate chopped the guy who crept up behind me. I heard him grunt and I went to punch him again only he grabbed my wrists and forced me to either be pulled to him or else tumble off the roof. I whimpered loudly as he pushed me inside my room.

"Who are you? What do you want?" I asked, falling to the floor and crawling backwards until my back hit the wall.

"Take it easy- I was sent by your father to keep an eye on you," he soothed me, stepping into the light more.

"I'm pretty sure that angels don't wear red, white and blue," I sassed him.

He looked at me with confusement.

"Daddy is dead. He was killed in combat three years ago," I explained softly, my hands on the wall as I stood.

"Oh. Your adopted dad?" he asked softly as I turned to stare at him. I nodded my head, my brown eyes staring into his blue eyes. "I meant I was sent by your real dad, Clint Barton."

"He is not my father!" I snarled. "He did not raise me, so don't you dare expect for me to start addressing him as being my father!"

The man looked shocked at my sudden outburst and stood their awkwardly for a few minutes as my chest heaved from the effort it took not to scream at him.

"I'm sorry if I hit a nerve, but he wants to keep an eye on you!" he hissed at me quietly.

"Why? He doesn't even know 100% if I am his daughter!" I snapped at him, letting my infamous hot temper come out. I was sure to keep my voice down, even though Grace was a sound sleeper, I didn't want her to worry and call mom or something.

"He had a DNA test done with one of your water bottles you gave to a homeless man," he deadpanned.

I knew what he was talking about.

"You robbed a homeless man of his earnings?" I fumed.

"No, he was an undercover agent," he explained.

I stared at him with a wide open mouth before snapping it shut.

"Seriously?" I groaned. "How badly does he want me?"

"Bad enough," answered the man. "He had reason to believe that a super villian will be after you."

"Does this super villain have a name?" I asked causally, heading over to the mini fridge to grab a water bottle

"He calls himself Bobcat; he's the ruthless leader of the Claws, a group of acrobatic criminals," he answered vaguely.

I snorted. "So it's like Robin on a crime spree?" I quipped, falling onto my bed and resting my head on the pillows.

"Kind of." I felt my bed dip down as he sat next to my feet.

"Is there anything I can do to protect Grace?" I asked fearfully. I'd be damned if I allowed for some bad guy to even touch my little sister!

"Send her back to Blue Hills and live with the Avengers," he answered automatically.


	10. Chapter 10

**Broken Memories**

**I don't own the Avengers.**

**SUMMARY:**

**Emma Waltson grew up an ordinary girl. But when she sees a familiar face on a milk carton, she finds herself tossed into a blender of crazy.**

After my spitfire night, I found myself with Grace at the set once more, watching in fascination as the actors and stunt crew did their scenes. Grace and I were allowed to make several cameo appearances; one was when Faith Willows, the main character, was standing in a corner observing everything round her as rehearsals went on; Grace was dancing with the ballet girls and I was working with the 'behind the scenes' crew.

Before I knew it, the day was over and my sister, band mates and I were on our way to dinner at a nice family owned Italian restaurant.

"Emma?" Molly asked me over our dinner. "Why have you been acting all squirrelly as of lately?"

I felt something inside of my crack as I reached into my purse and came up with my wallet, which I opened to take out the milk jug piture and a photo of me when I was three years old. I silently handed them over to my sister, where it circled around the table before ending up back with me, where I carefully stashed both items back into my wallet.

"Wow," whispered Erin, her eyes wide.

"So that's why you asked for my help," accused Grace, leaning back and folding her arms.

"Sorry Grace," I apologized, before sighing heavily. "I met him. Clint Barton, two days ago. At Avenger tower. I had to pee and when I came out of the ladies' room, he asked me what my name was. I told him Roseanna Barton." I bowed my head as a humorless laugh escaped my lips. "God I feel like an idiot! I hate me!"

"You don't hate you- you love you," corrected Irisa, leaning over to pat my hand.

"And the worst part is I found this," I pulled out the photos of me researching my look alike and of me snuggling with Grace. "So someone knows what I know and wants to use that as leverage."

Molly, Erin, Joy, Irisa and Grace all looked at me with open mouths.

"I know, I know, this is totally messed up, isn't it?" I groaned, rubbing my eyes with my fingers. "And… oh yeah, did I mention the fact that there's super villains out to get me?"

Everyone looked pained at my last statement.

~xoXox~

"Agent Barton, I had reviewed the case file you presented to me, and I decided that it doesn't pose an immediate threat to mankind," announced Nick Fury.

"Meaning…?" growled the marksman, his fingers twitching.

"Meaning that unless it does escalate out of control, I'm going to order that you lose all contact with the girl," Fury clarified.

"But she's my daughter! The DNA test proves it!" cried Clint, slamming his fist onto the desk as he glared at his boss.

"Regardless of that fact, until we know what we're dealing with, she isn't out priority," announced the director.

"Her name is Roseanna," growled the assassin. "Maybe you remember giving her piggyback rides and watching Disney films with her and having her call you 'Uncle Nicky', maybe you don't, but she is still my daughter and I will protect her from the Claws and Bobcat!" And with that, he stalked out of the office, muttering under his breath about "a jackass director who doesn't know what he's dealing with".

Nick sighed and rubbed his eyes before reaching into a desk drawer and pulling out a frame picture. It was of his and a three year old girl with untamed red curls.

"I sure do as hell remember her, Agent Barton," he whispered softly.


End file.
